Holly Calvasina

CHOICES celebrates our country’s highest court taking up a case challenging restrictions that claim to be about women’s health when in fact politicians simply want to push abortion care out of reach.

(Memphis, TN) – Statement by Rebecca Terrell on the announcement on Friday that the Supreme Court will hear Whole Woman’s Health v. Cole, a case challenging the restrictions created by Texas House Bill 2 that would result in the closure of more than three-quarters of the clinics across the state:

“In Tennessee, we certainly know what it is like to have politicians push through legislation that claims to be about safety when the true intent is to make abortion care harder to get. Abortion care is safe and providers uphold the strongest standards of care and yet we saw two bills passed this session to create intrusive, medically unnecessary regulations.

We have been watching this case closely. At the core are questions around the undue burden created by the types of restrictions that House Bill 2 imposed and the fact that bills like these are moved under false pretenses and often utilizing misinformation to push them through and put abortion care out of reach. Sadly, it has worked. In Texas, a state with more than 5 million women of child bearing age, these requirements could close all but 9 or 10 clinics. It would leave some areas of the state without any access to abortion care unless a person is able to travel hundreds of miles.

The two requirements that are being challenged in this case include that doctors who provide abortion services must obtain admitting privileges at a local hospital no farther than 30 miles away from the clinic and that any facility providing abortion care must meet the specifications of an ambulatory surgical centers (ASCs).

As we look towards the Whole Woman’s Health case being heard as early as March, we are also awaiting our own day in court next fall. The Center for Reproductive Rights filed a challenge in federal district court in Nashville this past June on behalf of Bristol Regional Women’s Center, The Women’s Center, and CHOICES: Memphis Center for Reproductive Health. This suit is taking on Tennessee’s own admitting privileges requirement and ambulatory surgical center regulations.

Whether by forcing a woman to delay health care or advancing measures targeting reproductive health care clinics for closure, politicians are clearly fixated on coming between a woman and her health care provider. The women of Tennessee and across this nation deserve better. They should be able to access safe abortion care when they need it without interference from lawmakers who do not know them, do not know about their health or their life or their hopes or dreams. We should each be able to make our own decisions about pregnancy, parenting, and abortion. For us the Texas case and the lawsuit here in Tennessee are about values, the values of privacy and dignity in medical care and the importance of bodily autonomy.”

Lisa Michaels is a talented local musician and comedian and a huge supporter of CHOICES. She is very involved with Memphis Roller Derby, a wonderful friend, and an active and outspoken member of the trans community. We are deeply fortunate to count Lisa among our friends, and we are thrilled to share her amazing story with you today.

“You’re not a real girl. You’re not a real girl” I said to the image in the mirror, berating myself as I stood there, somewhere in my mid-teens, while I was wearing one of my mother’s nightgowns. Ah, self-loathing. Just one of the many hardships that those of us with gender dysphoria must contend with.

When you’re transgender intuitively you know that you’re somehow different, regardless of the depths of your self-denial. The need to conform, to receive societal acceptance, to be quote unquote “normal” is in a constant battle with your need to be your real self. Regardless if you have self-awareness or not.

I tried for years “to be a man.” Not by trying to be macho but rather by pushing myself to work as hard and as fast as I was physically able to. And what did I get for my efforts? My body literally breaking down. I have had over twenty surgeries in my lifetime and only three that pertained to transitioning.
But my physical maladies paled in comparison to the mental anguish I experienced from internal and external forces.

Whoever coined that infamous quote “we are our own worst enemy” hit the nail right on the head. I have come to realize that the inner critic, that ceaseless chatter in the back of our minds which exasperates our self-image and self-worth deficits, is a culmination of all the negative input we have received from others. When you hear something about yourself and or your behavior repeatedly you have a tendency to believe it, whether it’s true or not.

There was a time in my life, when I was still in high school, that due to all the hazing and bullying that I experienced, I sincerely believed that I was a second class individual. It wasn’t until I moved to Memphis for the first time when I was eighteen that I realized that people didn’t view me as they did when I was in school. But unfortunately for me, my past experiences set the stage for how I let people treat me throughout my life. Thus, I allowed myself to endure emotionally abusive relationships, both romantically and platonically.

I would be guilty of painting a false picture if I claimed that I didn’t have friends throughout my life, but there is no comparison to the friends and support I have in my life now.

Speaking of guilt, I used to be uber-religious. Which of course only helped to increase my sense of guilt every time I crossed dressed. I cannot tell you how many times I “purged.” Purging happens after a cross-dresser gives in to what they struggle to resist and under a fog of guilt disposes of their other gender apparel vowing never to do it again. Talk about a self-inflicted mind job. My goodness!

Transgender people by no means have the market cornered on self-esteem issues, but until the public perception and acceptance started to change recently, being transgender was deemed socially unacceptable and vilified. Trans people who were outed were subject to, and still are, ridicule, violence, shaming, and discrimination. So when society deems something unacceptable and yet you’re compelled to do the very thing that society says is wrong, it gives the inner-critic fuel for the fires of self-loathing.

It’s a vicious cycle. Knowing that you’re different, then acting on those same impulses you have tried your best to resist, which are contrary to societal norms, and then experiencing the feelings of guilt and shame. Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t.

I often tell people that being transgendered is both a blessing and a curse. The curse is we have to deal with all the negative ramifications: rejection from both family and friends; harassment both verbal and physical; discrimination; for many the acute pain of loneliness; and, I’m not even going to address the physical and financial hardship of transitioning.

Now for the blessing. We trans people have the unique vantage point of knowing what life is like on both sides of the gender divide.

I am not a man but I know what society expects from them. The responsibilities they are naturally supposed to shoulder even if it’s unrealistic. Men are supposed to be the bread-winners. The provider and protector, fathers, handyman, etc., and they get sent off to war. I also have firsthand experience with the negative male attributes such as a propensity towards violence, aggression, and misogyny, stated or otherwise.
Having switched genders, I now have a grasp of what women endure both physically and emotionally, and what society expects them to be: mothers, workers, caregivers, domestic engineers, lovers, etc. I also have a growing awareness of the inner strength and spiritual connection that women possess that is not readily acknowledged in a male dominated culture.

So, for those of you who have to contend with an inner-critic gone wild, I would like to offer you some words of encouragement based on my own personal experiences.

In 2003 I went to my first trans club in North Hollywood California. Prior to that I had meet some people on line and they clued me in on to where to find the trans clubs, trans friendly motels, and a transgender boutique located in Studio City where I purchased female apparel and had a professional makeover.

The first time I ever saw Lisa staring back at me from my stylist’s mirror you couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Later that evening I went to a trans club for the first and I remember thinking to myself “Oh my God there are people like me!” It was a remarkable experience. And I want you all to know I never purged again!

Now as far as the inner critic is concerned I learned a valuable lesson in 2007. I had already started hormone therapy and I was presenting as a woman full time, but I had not yet undergone any surgeries.
I was out hiking one evening and my inner critic was just tearing me a new one and I remember screaming “Shut the fuck up!” And it did. It was an empowering moment in my life. For the first time I realized that I could stand up to my inner-critic, and the constant barrage of self-loathing could be silenced, even if only temporarily.
I have since progressed from a lifetime of being subjected to continual and extremely negative inner dialogue to a point to where I can look at myself in the mirror and smile.

Can I make the inner-critic completely disappear? Of course not, but it can be held in check. In fact, when I catch myself uttering negative self-insults, I tell myself that this inner commentary is both hurtful and untrue, thus raising my sense of self-worth and empowering me to ward off the slings of criticism, both inner and external. I could have never accomplished this state of mind without first being true to myself. Which in my case was acknowledging that I am transgendered. Looks like I’m a real girl after all!

Thank you for taking the time to read Lisa’s story. We hope it touched your hearts as deeply as it touched ours.

Hilarie Dahlhauser is a patient educator at CHOICES with an incredible passion for reproductive justice and serving our patients. She’s been with us since 2006 as both a volunteer and an employee. Throughout this time she has counseled, encouraged, comforted, and held the hands of countless women facing an unplanned pregnancy, and she knows first-hand how much your donations can impact the lives of these women. Hilarie’s stories from the front lines in the war for reproductive freedom highlight how the needless abortion restrictions recently passed in TN harm the most vulnerable members of our community and how meaningful your donation can truly be.

A tearful19-year-old mother of 3 was sitting in my office. She had been kicked out of her mother’s house, and then, when she became pregnant again, her grandmother kicked her out too. She and her 3 children were living in her car. She wanted an abortion- as much as anyone ‘wants’ an abortion. Of course, she wished circumstances were different and that could provide the love and support every child deserves to another baby, but she didn’t want to bring another child into her life of poverty and uncertainty.

She asked if there was anything we could do to help her pay for the procedure. I told her that with funding from the National Abortion Federation, we could reduce her cost to $455. Because our Patient Assistance Fund had been depleted by other similar cases, we could not offer her any lower fee. She dropped her head into her hands and started to cry.

A year ago, this wouldn’t have happened.

Because of the new Tennessee State law requiring a 48-hour waiting period between appointments, we now have to make women come for two separate visits in order to get an abortion. This means we have to pay our doctor for two full days for each procedure. Because of these new circumstances, we have no choice but to nearly the double cost of an abortion just to be able to keep our doors open. Prior to the new law, the price of an abortion was around $400. With NAF funding, we could get the fee down to as little as $255. Now the price is at least $700, and the absolute lowest we can reduce it with NAF funding is $455. For women who do not have $455 at their disposal, this cost is devastating .

Often, coming up with this money means returning to an abusive partner to ask for cash, forgoing food for themselves and their families, taking out loans, or selling valuable and necessary items.

Your contribution can make sure this doesn’t have to happen to anyone else.

On top of the cost of the procedure, women must now bear the financial burden associated with two visits. Many of our patients travel from Arkansas, Missouri, Mississippi, Kentucky, and Alabama to access the services we provide. Before the law passed, we prided ourselves on being able to offer same-day services. Women would only have to make the trek once, and only miss one day of work. We were able to minimize the negative impact that an abortion has on their lives. Now, we have to tell women who are sick, anxious, and filled with dread that they have to go back home and prolong this process.

One woman in my office burst into tears when I told her she had to return for a second visit because she didn’t have a car or know anyone who had one. When I asked her how she had gotten to this visit, she told me she had taken a cab. From Little Rock, Arkansas! That’s a 2 hour cab ride. On top of that, she couldn’t afford a babysitter, so she had left her two small children at home alone.

Abortion is not fun. For anyone. It’s a huge decision, and one that causes many women a great deal of emotional, financially, and physical stress. We cannot change this. What we can do is reduce the added stress of this extreme financial burden.

Your donation can drastically decrease the negative impact that the often difficult decision to have an abortion has on a woman’s life.

All of our donations go directly to our Patient Assistance Fund. Your contribution can lift the pressure that our patients are already feeling, and make sure that they don’t have to put themselves in any further distress. Our lawmakers are trying to make abortion less accessible and less affordable. CHOICES can provide access to affordable, compassionate abortion care, but we need your help.

Please, help us make sure that no more young women have to choose between terminating an unwanted pregnancy and feeding their families.

Kate Lucas, the author of this beautiful post, is a local comedian and co­host of the Morning Show with Ric and Kate on radiomemphis.com. She has been performing and touring stand­up comedy for eight years. She is also a proud mother and owner of two cats.

Perfect Eyes: A Story about Mothers, Daughters, and Girlhood

When I was in the sixth grade, I was diagnosed with 20/20 vision. My mother was relieved, joyful even. I had been complaining to her that I had trouble seeing the blackboard at school. I told her that it had been giving me headaches.

I could see perfectly from my chosen position in the back of the classroom where I planted myself each day in a desperate attempt to seem cooler. I knew there was nothing wrong with my eyes. Okay, that statement isn’t entirely true. I knew that there was nothing wrong with my VISION.

Beau Anderson (not his real name) was the dreamiest boy in sixth grade. He had curly dark hair, a tan, and a crooked grin. He played baseball and had dogs. I was as madly in love as a twelve-year-old can be. For the record, I was a poetry writer, a singer, a burgeoning actress. Every athletic endeavor I ever undertook ended in snickering at best, and near tragedy at worst. That same year, at my own skating party, I broke two bones in my arm, having to have them surgically reset while my mother and father sat in the ER waiting room with fifteen pre-pubescent girls. That, however, is a digression.

Beau Anderson, as it turns out, had a youthful infatuation with Sakura Mitsuki. I knew Sakura well. She was the exchange student from Japan who spent my entire sixth grade year living with my family. She was like my big sister. Many nights we would wait until my parents were asleep and practice saying cuss words at one another. She was a few years older than Beau or me. She was my friend. I admired her. Beau admired her. He said she had pretty eyes. They were a deep, twinkly brown. I have blue eyes. I wanted them to be brown. I knew contacts could do that, so I wanted contacts.

So here I was, being told that I had perfect vision, and I hated my eyes. I wanted to be what I thought I was supposed to be so that boys would like me. If the right boy liked me, then I could sit with the right girls at lunch. Nothing that I had going for me mattered, because Beau Anderson preferred brown eyes, and my eyes were too healthy to need contacts.

Ever since my daughter was born ten years ago, people comment that she “has my eyes.” It’s a little bit unnerving to see “my eyes” piercing holes through me, but on her, they’re beautiful. (Yeah, I’m a mom.) I have spent hours staring into her sweet, sparkly blue eyes. Her eyes express so much, even little trinkets that she doesn’t necessarily want me to know. She’s not good at lying, for which I am greatly relieved.

Six years ago, when she was four, the doctor told us that my daughter has Autism Spectrum Disorder. It’s not very common in girls, and it presents different symptoms and issues for each person who deals with it. I was crushed and scared. I want the world for my child. Suddenly, I had no idea what that looked like or how to even begin to go about providing it.

Her father and I had a meeting. Wine and tears were involved, and the conclusion that we reached is that a diagnosis did not change the bright, funny, smart little girl who had gone in to that doctor’s office to be tested. She was the same child that we had loved and raised for four years and we would continue to take things as they came, like every parent.

Two years later, she was in kindergarten reading at a third grade level. She excels at math, and is just as witty and funny as ever. She’s funnier than me, if you want to know the truth. I’ve stolen several jokes from her that I use on stage on a regular basis. Her main “deficit,” as the medical profession puts it, is in her social interactions. She is not as inclined to reach out to her peers as other little girls her age. The important part to me, though, is that she’s happy! Her little blue eyes twinkle brighter than any magic that has ever existed in my world. Sweet blue eyes that have so far managed to be relatively unaffected by the images of women on television and in magazines.

She judges beauty in the way people speak to her and treat those around her. She isn’t worried about what the little boy thinks about her eyes because her eyes are a part of her face, that she uses to observe and process the world around her.

She’s not oblivious to the fact that she’s different. She becomes more and more aware of it as she grows, but so far she doesn’t seem to think that it’s a bad thing. It’s just a part of who she is, and who she is shapes how she experiences things. She likes herself, because that’s what she’s been shown. Somehow, when she sees a make up commercial, she sees that they are trying to sell her red lipstick. (Which she loves, because it’s messy and fun.) She doesn’t see what I saw. She doesn’t think that if her lips aren’t red, she’ll never have any friends. Adolescence is tough for everybody, but I’m doing my best to arm this little girl with the knowledge that she is powerful, beautiful, and amazing. I’m filling her world with people who do the same.

There are lots of voices that we can interact with out there. Maybe it would be good for every woman to practice a little “social deficiency” from now on. Perhaps we should spend a little bit more time just being ourselves and processing how much good and interesting stuff there is in our worlds, how awesome the people who love us are, and how cool it is to have the unique set of circumstances that makes us US. There’s probably something that you worry about at least several times a week that you simply don’t need. It was advertised to you, or all of your friends have it, or you’re convinced that you can never be truly beautiful without it. It’s bullshit.

I passed my 20/20 vision on to my daughter. Hopefully, I can pass on some of the things she’s taught me, too. She’s my hero, and she has beautiful eyes.